


A New Day

by poppetawoppet



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Crack, Crossover, M/M, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/pseuds/poppetawoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Giraud, stranded in London, finds a new roommate. A sort of Sherlock Holmes crossover<br/>Dedicated to <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-P"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://odontv.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://odontv.livejournal.com/"></a><b>odontv</b> who has been waiting for this forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Day

It was raining the day I met him.

I didn't take a cab, which was probably fortunate for me (and I promise to get back to that), but I did ruin my last clean suit. Not that I had a job. I'd been playing a decent bar gig for six months in LA, but after getting shot for the third time, I figured it was time for a change of location.  
I hadn't figured on leaving the country, but the owner of the bar, Mr. Cowell, said he had a friend that could put me up.

Except the friend did not exist.

I should have known better than to put my life in Simon's hands. Suppose I'm too trusting.

So I wandered London, looking for some sort of work, my dwindling money supply spent on trying to find an apartment (a flat, they all call them flats here) or even just a room.

I walked in the rain because I couldn't afford the cab. That's when I ran into Ryan.

"Matt? Is that you?"

"Ryan!"

I knew Ryan from the bar. He was a friend of Simon's, so I had no reason to trust him. But any familiar face was welcome.

"You are looking a little down."

Ryan, if you haven't noticed, liked to state the obvious.

"I'm doing okay man. Have a couple gigs lined up-" so I was lying-"but looking for a place to stay."

Ryan looked at me. "Actually, I may know someone."

Knowing my luck, it was some crazy Russian lady obsessed with fame and Ryan Seacrest, and not always necessarily in that order. But it was a room.

"I'm in."

Ryan produced an umbrella from somewhere and we made our way to an office building that turned out to be a lab. I followed him into one of the rooms, slightly dark. I notice the white cane in the corner, shining brightly under the few fluorescent bulbs.

"Matt, this is an acquaintance of mine, Scott, this is Matt."

The man turned, his eyes wildly looking nowhere, and held out his hand. I shook it carefully.

"Another refugee of Simon's I suppose?"

"I-"

"How long have you played piano Matt?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Did the bullet shatter your knee, or graze it?"

I looked at Ryan and back at Scott.

"How?"

"You shuffle when you walk. You drag your left leg a bit, which tells me it hurts. The rain could aggravate an old injury, but you still speak with a touch of Michigan on your tongue. Ryan only brings me refugees of Simon's wrath, so that means you were in LA. The fact you still shuffle says the injury is recent. The state of your clothes tells me you have to dress up: I felt the fabric of the suit as you shook my hand. Also the grip indicates that you play, plus your association with Simon makes you a musician. I played for a bit myself. Any other questions?"

"Are you always like this?" I asked.

"Like what?"

I looked at Ryan again and sighed.

"221b Baker Street. Rent's fairly cheap, as Mrs. Abdul takes sympathy on my condition. As long as there aren't any parties I can't see why you can't stay for a bit."

"Well then."

"I'll see you soon, Mr.—"

"Giraud. My last name is Giraud."

Scott nodded. "MacIntyre."

I walked out of the building behind Ryan. The rain had stopped. I had somewhere to go.  
I couldn't shake the feeling that something had just happened.

"You want to share a cab?" Ryan asked.

"Nah," I said. "It stopped raining. I'll be fine."

Then I walked into the night, and toward my new home.


End file.
